


Intermission (five times the world didn't end)

by ArwenLune, somnolentblue



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Collaboration, Community: pt-lightning, Gen, POV: Jenny Mills, PT-Lightning Challenge: Round 5, Podfic, Podfic & Podficced Works, Podfic Length: 10-20 Minutes, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:03:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2681828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArwenLune/pseuds/ArwenLune, https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnolentblue/pseuds/somnolentblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jennifer Mills in the moments between.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intermission (five times the world didn't end)

**Author's Note:**

> A [Pod Together Lightning](http://pt-lightning.dreamwidth.org) project. Podfic by [ArwenLune](http://primarybufferpanel.tumblr.com/); text by [somnolentblue](http://somnolentblue.dreamwidth.org). 
> 
> Author's notes: I'd like to thank ArwenLune for being great to work with (and being incredibly patient and engaged during this collab, which involved a lot of bouncing ideas and scribbled words as it came together). I'd also like to thank fuzzybluemonkeys for giving the text a lightning fast beta read.

****  


**Length: 15:28  
**

[ **Download here (right click and save)** ](http://tindeck.com/download/pro/fmnc/%5Btindeck.com%5D+-+writer%253A%2BSomnolentBlue%2B%257C%2Breader%253A%2BArwenLune%2B-%2BIntermission%2B%2528Five%2BTimes%2BThe%2BWorld%2BDidn%2527t%2BEnd%2529.mp3)

Or listen to the stream right here:

 

**[Jenny and Corbin]**

Jenny pulled on the scrubs she slept in. (Always wear something you can run in, that will let you blend in and stay alive; add a bra and you can insinuate yourself into a hospital or doctor's office for supplies if necessary.) She kicked the blood-streaked towels into a corner. She didn't want to leave the steamy warmth of the bathroom, but she couldn't stay in there forever.

"Hope you've invested in Clorox," she said, emerging into the winter-chilled air and kicking the bathroom door shut behind her.

Corbin looked up from the eggs he was frying in his ancient cast iron skillet. (Good against fairies and other fae; effective against humans; does jack against rampaging dryads.) He looked unimpressed by her flippancy. "Well, Mills," he replied, "I surely do after that nonsense between you and the jackalope last fall."

"I beat that jackalope fair and square," she protested, easing herself down into one of his kitchen chairs; it creaked alarmingly, but she knew that it was as solid as Corbin himself.

"And in the meantime got covered in mud, which you then proceeded to transfer to my poor towels."

She shrugged as he slipped a plate in front of her, digging in without any hesitation. She needed calories more than she needed table manners. (Don't hesitate to eat or sleep when the opportunity presents itself, politeness and, if need be, legality be damned; you're no good to anyone if you faint from hunger or are stupid-tired.) "Next time I'll make sure to battle vicious cryptids in the middle of summer."

"Good," he said, pulling the percolator off the stove and pouring her a mug of coffee. "You do that. I'll break out Joey's kiddie pool and you can stay outside until you dry off and spare my towels."

She threw a roll at him.

**[Jenny and Irving]**

"Hey, sailor," Jenny said as she kicked the barstool out far enough for her to sit on it. Irving looked over at her and then went back to contemplating his beer like it would reveal the secrets of the universe to him.

It wouldn't — that particular beer was only made once, in a Trappist monastery in Belgium, before the holy brothers went stark, raving mad and emptied the casks on an oak sapling.

(Kindling from that tree made for a great campfire when one was seeking insight, but she wasn't sure the hangover was worth it. Also, seeing the spaces between reality was disconcerting and fucked with her head.)

Right, Irving was in the post-reality check slump. A bit disappointing, but not unexpected. Jenny Mills to the rescue, shepherd of poor fools who got caught up in this war. Corbin had always told her he'd give her a bonus when she hit one hundred initiations; Irving was number sixty-eight.

(Nevermind that Corbin hadn't paid her a day in her life. Facilitated her paychecks, sure, given her contacts and training and jobs, but she didn't owe him a damn thing, nor did he owe her.)

She smirked and tried again. "Fancy a beer, a fuck, or a fight?"

He looked at her, caught between disbelief and irritation. "Mills, I don't want jack from you."

"Uh-huh. Well, why don't you put that beer down and join me in a game of pool then." She jerked her chin over to the tables, where frat boys in Alpha Alpha shirts were guzzling pitchers of Miller Lite and gorging on wings. "We can annihilate them, and I'd bet we can get enough to cover our beers for the next three rounds of chaos and crisis." It would be a good distraction for him, a better way to wind down after today's supernatural mess than getting lost in his beer.

"Mills, on what planet is hustling dumb frat boys a good idea?"

"On the planet where I don't feel like shelling out for my drinks." She downed the rest of her beer, grinned at him, and slid off the barstool. Hell, even if he didn't pull his head out of his beer and join her, she could still kick their asses; her rent was due.

(Abbie never made her pay rent, but Jenny wasn't a freeloader, sister or no. Gas and guns, food and coffee, that shit all required money, and Jenny was going to make sure she had it.)

**[Jenny and Macey]**

"Sucks, doesn't it?" Jenny wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans and sat down on the couch. She hated this shit — Abbie had always been better at the touchy-feely stuff; Jenny was good for explosions and movement — but someone needed to do it. The poor kid didn't know what way was up, and Jenny was the only one here.

The girl — Macey — looked up and then returned to staring out the window. Shit, she was so much like her daddy.

"I'm guessing no one told you anything. Right. Because me doing this is such a fucking brilliant idea. Oh, hell, I'm probably not supposed to say 'fucking' in front of you, am I?"

"I'm thirteen, not three," Macey said sharply, and Jenny was relieved that Ancitif hadn't silenced her. Jenny had been silent a long time, after.

"You're right," Jenny said.

They sat in silence. (Come on, little bird, Jenny thought, have a spark, have a question. Ask, and I'll tell you; I can't bring myself to ruin your life if you don't want to know. Even if your life is already ruined, dad in jail and mom in therapy and Ancitif's slime oozing through your skull.)

"You were there," Macey said.

"You're right," Jenny said again. (Don't become me, little bird, rage and pain and staying away from the ones you love so you don't hurt them. You're stronger than that, be more than that.)

Jenny opened her mouth, but no words came out. She thought of what she had wanted to know, had needed to know. "Your dad," she began, "loves you very much." She stopped, swallowed. Wiped her hands on her jeans again, took a deep breath, and continued. "What happened wasn't your fault." She was going to ruin this girl's life, but maybe she could save it, too. "It was a demon named Ancitif."

**[Jenny, Abbie, and Ichabod]**

Jenny loved Abbie's couch. Abbie's beautiful, squishy, comfortable couch, ten feet from beer and barbeque chips with a soft and fuzzy blanket always draped across the back. Abbie had a great couch, and Jenny had no intention of moving from her sprawl unless one of the horsemen came through the front door. And maybe not even then, as long as they didn't drip on the carpet.

"Might I have some space on the sofa, Miss Jenny?" Ichabod asked.

Jenny cracked open an eye. "Nope," she said, "freeloaders don't get couch space. Sisters do." (She'd seen her sister's bills, and a deputy's salary didn't stretch to cover two adults immersed in supernatural shenanigans.)

"Oh please," Abbie said, putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and hitting Jenny's feet until she budged up, "you don't get any moral high ground, Miss 'I am a liberator of knowledge and artefacts.'"

"I," Jenny replied, "offer ammo and knowledge. He just moons about."

Abbie poked Jenny in the side, the cheater, and Jenny shrieked and lunged to retaliate. Ichabod took advantage of her inattention to slide onto the couch. "You cheat," Jenny said, leaving the implication of who was doing the cheating deliberately ambiguous.

"I take advantage of the circumstances as they present themselves to me," Ichabod replied.

Abbie snorted. "Like when you got kicked out of the coffee shop because you advantaged yourself behind the counter for a refill?"

"It was unattended! It is not my fault the proprietor of the establishment does not wish to hire a sufficient number of employees to adequately staff his business."

Jenny laughed. "Why, Mr. Crane, it sounds like you might want to join my line of work. I'm sure I have a few contacts who can appreciate a man of your skills and linguistic abilities," she teased. (She could hook him up with some kids who needed Greek and Latin tutors. Some of the people in the trade would be happy to throw money at a former Oxford professor in the name of a classical education for their brats.)

"I'm sure I'll never be so desperate as to consort with the likes of Hawley and Han Solo," he shot back.

Jenny pelted him with popcorn, and it degenerated from there.

(Some of the kids she introduced him to were like her, desperate to learn so they wouldn't get anyone killed; those kids Ichabod taught for free.)

**[Jenny and Abbie]**

They went to Corbin's cabin, afterwards. Jenny was pretty sure everyone else in their merry little band of apocalypse-diverting do-gooders would end up there eventually, but she called dibs on Corbin's shower. (All of the water pressure, massive hot water tank; Crane and Katrina could deal with the dicey nature of Abbie's plumbing, and she gave no fucks about what anyone else did.) She herded Abbie into her car.

Abbie dozed off on the way, and Jenny smiled softly at the tiny snores coming from her sister. She woke up when Jenny pulled up to the cabin and stumbled out. Jenny didn't even try to divert her from first shower, just made certain that there was a massive pile of towels awaiting her and didn't comment on the sound of her sister's sobs. (Sometimes the only grace you could grant someone was the dignity to fall apart, after.)

When Abbie stumbled out of the bathroom in a pair of shapeless sweat pants and a stretched-out tee, steam wafting behind her, Jenny plated the grilled cheese out of the cast-iron skillet. "Here," she said, cutting it into triangles like Abbie had done for her when they were kids. Abbie smiled at her, and Jenny left her to her sandwich and took her own shower.

When she emerged, scrubbed down and muscles in her back a little less like concrete, Abbie had migrated to the couch with one of Corbin's trashy romance novels. "Hey," Jenny said, nudging Abbie's foot and curling up on the other end.

"Hey," Abbie replied.

"So, that was dramatic."

Abbie choked out a laugh. "Crystals, chanting, hole torn between realities, a thrice-blessed and thrice-cursed weapon. Dramatic covers it." Jenny offered her fist, and Abbie bumped it. "But the Mills sisters are awesome, and we totally saved the day."

"We're badasses like that," Jenny said, and Abbie gave her a small smile.

"Absolutely. And now I can go back to being just a deputy—"

"Badass deputy," Jenny interrupted.

"—a badass deputy, and do my work without succubi and demons and witchcraft and magic."

"You'll miss it," Jenny predicted. "You'll be banging on my door in six months needing information for some reason." (She didn't have a door, but maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to have a permanent home address and get junk mail and put out the recycling.)

Abbie shrugged. "I do have a bit of a reputation, but I'm not sure how many ghosts and ghouls and things that go bump in the night will be around any more, without the Horsemen to stir them up."

"People create a lot of havoc on their own," Jenny pointed out, and Abbie didn't reply. (She could become a dealer of antiques and arcana, a broker of knowledge and connections. Being able to deal with the supernatural without a looming apocalypse sounded like a vacation.)

After a minute of silence, Abbie said, "You should come to Ichabod's book club meeting. He and Dr. Lopez argue each other into the wall about the Brontës, and you do not want to see the carnage after they've read Hemingway."

Jenny smiled at her. "Sounds dramatic," she said.

"You have no idea. I brought popcorn and cookies once, and the rest of us just watched. Ms. Johannsen started a betting pool, although I suspect Dr. Lopez knows — she just attacks his arguments harder."

"A upright young officer like yourself, gambling?" Jenny affected the cadences of Mrs. Smith, one of their busybody old teachers who was always shocked, just shocked, at young people today. "Whatever is this world coming to?" She clutched imaginary pearls, and Abbie laughed, just as she had when they were in kids.

They had won.

It was a good day.


End file.
